


Of the Traitor

by Shimoneko



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, and probably dragons, probably smut, traitor ship, visions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:58:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shimoneko/pseuds/Shimoneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Maeglin was captured by Orcs and brought to Angband he offered information of the lays of the hidden city of Gondolin in exchnage for his life. But beside for the false promised of Melkor and the betrayal he fell for something much more valuable - Mairon.</p><p>This fanfiction is based on the version of the Fall of Gondolin written in the History of Middle-Earth so it differs from the version written in the Silmarillion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is highly leaned on the version of "The Fall of Gondolin" from History of Middle-Earth so it might be slightly different from the version that is published in The Silmarillion. Some of the parts are copied from this version too, that's the reason for that old English in this and the following chapter. Don't worry it will get better.  
> Have fun reading.

It was forbidden. He knew it. Of course he trusted the King, his uncle , but he had  
been locked up most of his life, first by his father then by his uncle. Every single  
chance to get out of the fortress of high mountains encircling the white city. It  
was usual for the Lord of the House of the Mole to be out of the city for a few  
weeks. Searching for ore in the mountains takes its time, no matter if inside or  
outside the wall-like chain od the Echoriath. One of the mines was further north,  
isolated but lucrative. No of his men he had with him, no even the ones he really  
trusted. The King should not know about his trips outside. It made him feel  
independent and free. Even though he had been a Lord for quite a while now but  
to the hustle and bustle of the city he never got used. The mountains, mines and  
forges were where he felt at home.  
Dusk was slowly crawling out of the shadows as Arien sent her last rays of  
ancient light over the sharp teeth of the Echoriath as Maeglin, Son of Eöl, Lord  
of the House of the Mole of Gondolin and the King's sister's son, went down from  
the mine made his way to the small camp he had set up for the time he stayed in  
the mountains.  
Suddenly something hit the elf's head and a troup of orcs crawled out of the  
shadows attacking him throwing him down and taking his weapons sooner than  
he could draw his black blade. He fought and stabbed a few of his foes with a  
dagger but soon they even took this from him. They tied him up and spoke in  
hissed sounds in the Dark Language. It wasn't direcly fear that caught the elf's  
heart but something deeper and darker and he spoke up with a strng voice:  
"Know then that I am Maeglin, son of Eöl who had to wife Aredhel sister of  
Turgon king of the Gondothilim." But the orcs turned around with unimpressed  
features, which shone in the dim light of the torch they had lit in the dark. Hissing  
and spitting the orc that had spoken before to the others came closer to Maeglin.  
" What is that to us?" To answer Maeglin sat up the best he could and  
announced what he had on his mind with straight back. "Much it is to you; for you  
slay me, be it speedy or slow, ye will lose great tidings concerning the city of  
Gondolin that your master would rejoice to hear." After a small discussion  
between a few of them, the orcs decided to lend the elf their ears and to hear  
about the secrets of the hidden city. "Tell us more, elf. How shall we know if ye  
are speaking true." So Maeglin continued his speech telling the faul creatures  
which encircled him about hight and thickness of the walls and the king's troups  
and their equipment.  
In his mind the king's sister son hoped they would still keep him alive instead of  
killing him right away after gaining the information they had just heard. And his  
thoughts were cut by the spitting sound of the orcs voice again. "Now that we  
have what you gave to our Lord Melkor, we can kill ye, pathetic elfen prince." But  
Maeglin was anything but pathetic and cought on the words directed to him  
without much further thought. "Think ye not that ye would rather pleasure your  
master if ye bore to his feet so noble a captive, that he might hear my tidings of  
himself and judge of their verity?" Thereafter the orcs pulled him up on his feet  
and draged him through small paths of the mountains, about to take Maeglin to  
Angband to the Lord and Master.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the second chapter is already done I should upload it. I'd say it's the last chapter with (my horrible old English) the net chapter will be better I promise. I only kept it in here because I think it fits better for the upcoming conversation between Maeglin and Melkor. So have fun reading.

_**O**_ nly slowly did the realness of what had happened reach Maeglin's mind. Slowly  
as the steps he had to take on the maze-like ways through the mountains -  
always northwards. A picture of stars like a sickle shone faintly through the  
clouds that seemed now so much darker and heavier than before on the Nothern  
sky. Tilion was hid behind those black thickness too, not giving light nor seeing  
the first act of what will end in a catostorphy in a not too far way future.

  
His weapons chimmed through the night in the rhythm of the careful steps they  
took. The walk was long and tiring. But Maeglin wouldn't show weakness, he  
never had. Not when his father had screamed at him for mistaked in his early  
years nor when Eöl had thrown his arrow at his son and hit his wife nor when this  
elf was sentenced to death and cursed his own blood. Only when Aredhel died  
had been a crack in the otherwise perfect mask visible. But this moment Maeglin  
remembered not in this place. More he was busy with the current surroundings.  
The ropes on his arms were tight and rough and he felt out of balance without his  
sword at his side. But this was his way out of death maybe. Or at least it would  
give him a few more days or even weeks. He was still young for an elf but  
already or mature statue and strength. But he remembered the old tales of what  
or better who will await him in Angband and if he'd really see the Dark Lord on  
his throne beneath Thangorodrim. He almost shivered at this thought. However  
the story of the Jewels - the Silmarill - came to his mind. He'd never known much  
about the work of Fëanor besides that it was the most wonderful that had ever  
been made by elven hands. If it was true what was told Morgoth wore this  
treasure in a crown on his head, so if everything was about to happen as it was  
offered Maeglin might even be able to catch a glimps of the Silmarills. As a smith  
himself he could only imagine them but didn't dare to expect them to be like in his  
mind, this treasure was more than he could imagine. At the end of this trail of  
thoughts the elf's eyes wandered back to lights at the sky.

  
They reached the edge of the mountains around noon of the following day.  
Slowly the cliffs became lower and less claustrophobic. Grey smoke rose from  
something that seemed like a small camp between the last foothills of the  
Echoriath. More orcs gathered there together with what Maeglin recognized as  
trolls and even wolves and wrags. All of the creatures stared at the captive some  
shouted words and curses at the elf but he didn't flinch and stood his ground - no  
weakness.

  
He was tied to a trunk of molding wood when some seemed like the higher ranks  
of the troup gathered to discuss the futher actions. Meaglin was disgusted by that  
orcs and trolls and he remembered the way their filthy blood ran down the black  
blade of Anguirel, the sword his father once made. But he had to bear with it for  
now, all the dirt and mud. His robes weren't the most ornated, it wasn't his  
fashion. Though the rought mountain path had taken its toll on him.

  
Not much later the ropes that tied him to the trunk were cut by an axe and he  
was pulled to one of the enclosers with the wolves. Only with a few snipplets of  
understandable words reached Maeglins ears. "With the wolves.... about a week.  
... about the hidden city of the elves! ...... Lord Melkor in person...!" So it will  
happen as he offered. The prince will be taken to Angband. But before he can  
think further about what could await him a very ugly and deformed orc pushed  
him on the back of one of the wolves, his hands tied to the saddle and harness.  
Together with a few more wrag and wolf rideres he depated from the small camp.  
The lack of sleep caugh the elf once in a while but he stayed conscious, fighting  
the weakness of sleep.

  
The trip took, like the orc said, almost a week. Wolves and wrags ran through the  
Dor Daedeloth. They took breaks when the night set and to rest. Meaglin did  
everything but this. How could he. The air grew thicker and breathing became so  
much harder. The breezes reaked of rotting and death so the foul water and  
dried meat that were forced down his throat to "treat him like a guest" made  
things only worse. After 6 days they finally reached the great gate of  
Thangorodrim. Meaglin's easy burned from tiredness and poisoned air but the  
sight of the mountains took finally his breath. And with a loud iron sound the  
gates closed behind the troup. There was no way back. Not ever since he had  
first raised his voice in the mountains encircling the hidden city.

 

* * *

 

  
It was a cold darkness in the shadows, a deep contrast to the flickering torches  
on the walls of the walls of the hallways, which seemed neverending. Something  
cold seeped into Meagin's bones making them shake with something much  
deeper than fear but similar. Still the elf's face didn't show fear as he was lead  
down a coridor of stairs, which parted only to find together later again. He really  
tried his best to memorize the way he was lead but it was impossible so many  
corners and angles looked like another and his head began to swing though his  
head he held high and his back straight, as if presenting his offer and himself the  
best he could.

  
Deeper and deeper they led him under the mountains and the heat rose and the  
air reaked of burned coal and metal, familiar to the elven smith but it didn't help  
the tension that grew with every meter they came deeper into the earth. At some  
point the sound of steal meeting iron was heard and it sounded like music in  
Maeglin's ears even though he was sure slaves were the ones that forged  
weapons and armour for thousands of orc soldiers, ready to go to battle at a  
single command of their master. Trying to get this scenarion of his own fate out  
of his head Meaglin was at some point glad to hear the spitting and disgusting  
curses of his guards instead.

  
Maeglin's throat went dry from heat and lack of water after what seemed like  
days and they finally stopped but in front of them was no big doors like the smith  
had expected it of the great hall of the Dark Lord but after a few moments he  
realized that this should be his prison. He didn't resist. Why should he now? So  
he walked into the dark room, a small bench on one wall nothing more. The door  
closed behind Maeglin and it was dark. Nothing in the cell was a hint of the time  
of the day. But it couldn't be too late maybe afternoon, he sat down on the bench  
while his eyes got used to the dark. He preferred the dark to the light, always will,  
ever since Nan Elmoth. But in the forest never echoed of the screams of tortured  
prisoners. Maeglin's masked still stayed even though nobody was watching.  
The time passed slowly in a room with nothing. Maeglin combed through his dark  
hair with his fingers rearranging his braids.. He had to present himself and his  
knowlegde - the knowledge that will make him a traitor - at least. With every  
moment that passed this thought sank deeper and deeper tainting his heart with  
evil.

  
The door opened with isults, curses and spitting commands. Maeglin hadn't slept  
in his time in the dark. Neither screams nor fear nor his own mind had allowed  
him to. The ropes on his wrists were finally removed but immediately replaced  
with iron shackles.

  
With every step he took the chains on his hands chimmed and the prisoner  
walked into his doom. After what seemed like a parade to show off a prisoner of  
war, a traitor. Now that he stood right in front of the great door of the deepest  
hall, the throne hall, it appeared so much higher than Maeglin had ever imagined  
it. He was able to take a last deep breath before the door opened, not at full  
width but still wide enough for the elf to walk through without a problem. Right  
after he stepped into the dark hall the door closed with a loud crack. Dark eyes  
looked straight forward to the end of the room and tried to focus on the small light  
at the end of it. The Silmarills.

  
His mask on he walked along the black floor only recognizing dark pillars what  
supported the whole weight of the stone and mointains above with their arms of  
snakes out of the corner of his eye. The architechture was almost breathtaking  
but not the vast hall with its pillars of stone and steal took his breath but the  
dread that pressedon his chest with every step he took closer to the throne and  
the Dark Lord of this lands. In the end the trembling was too hard to supress. It  
wasn't only from fear but from the pressure on this body.

  
"So thou art the one that will make himself a traitor for the saving of his own life?  
Tell me what thou hath for me."

  
A voice like the fundaments of the eath echoed through the hall and through  
Maeglin's whole body. Maeglin did not even dare too look up still shaken from  
this first words. It felt like the ground beneath his feet would gave in but he took  
all of his strength to remain standing. It took him a few moments for the elf to find  
his voice somewhere in the back of his throat. "I am Maeglin Son of Eöl and Lord  
of the House of the Mole of Gondolin and the king's sister son. I offer thee, oh  
great Melkor, Lord of the world, words of information of the stength and laying of  
the hidden realm of Gondolin." At last he dared to look up to meet eyes of ice  
with fire behind them and he didn't flinch away from fear. "What valuable catch  
that was brought before me. But why did thee came here on thy own wish?"  
Maeglin began to visably shake under the pressure of the question. "I came here  
in front of thee to trade my life for what I will tell thee." A deep laugh, which shook  
the walls, came from the Valar's mouth before he spoke again, amused. "So  
Maeglin, Son of Eöl, say the worth of life of thee measures the one of the word  
brought to me? It hath to be more than just the simple location then. Though I  
could also just torture all that I need out of thee."

  
And as soon as the words were spoken Maeglin felt whips of fire on his back and  
rips. Blades cut through pale skin, leaving blood and pain. Onehundred knifes at  
a time. Rips were broken and stood out through white skin. Every bone in his  
body had been broken only to heal to go through the same procedure again and  
again. He was nothing but a scared and disformed mess. Unable to move he  
choked on water that burned like fire and made his insides bleed from the burns.  
He was lost in time and as he opened his eyes the last time Maeglin lay on the  
floor of the great throne hall of Angband screaming for his life until nothing was  
left of it anymore. A nightmare that had felt like an age of Middle-Earth but had  
only lasted a second. Meaglin's mind was still coping with the shock as he tried to  
get at least at all fours to get up from the cold floor. If there had been something  
in the elf's stomach if would have left it at last at this moment. His breathing was  
heavy and the skaking made it hard to keep his body from the floor but he still  
found his voice in this mess even though it has lost most of its strength. "I will tell  
thee. But this torture won't make me tell thee more than I intended to." The words  
took longer than he wanted to form properly on his bleeding lips but Meaglin  
even found the will to get back on his feet looking up with the sharp glance his  
name promised. An amused smile found its way to the Dark Lord's lips as he  
spoke again with words that appeared at least a bit less heavy. "I see. A plan  
should be made by thee for my legions to invade the city of Gondolin. In  
exchange that elfen maid thou desire should belong to thee and her child and  
that man should be killed, by even the hand of thee if this is which you wish for.  
Should the attack be successful you shall even become my liege and govern  
Gondolin for me. Until the planning is done thou shall stay here in my castle.  
Mairon!"

  
"I thank thee Lordof Angband for this gift. I will not disappont thy  
expectations."

  
Maeglin had gathered the courage to look up only to see a fair figure comeing out  
of the shadows beside the throne. It was easier to look at them than to look at  
Melkor but it not less intense. The fair figure had hair that looked like liquid gold  
that reflected the colours of the flames on the walls and shining piercing eyes of  
amber. Almost everything on them was covered in jewelery and gold. Slowly  
regaining his senses Maegin realized what has happened and what will follow  
next. Now that the fear decreased to the point where he could finally notice his  
surroundings his eyes fell on the shining stones above and what the Valar who  
wore them had just said.

Bowing the deepest he could without laying completely on floor. Relieve swept   
over him for a moment. But before he could finally calm enough to concentrate on  
the shining Silmarills again, his view was blocked by Mairon who stood right in  
front of him. As fast as he could Maeglin regained his posture and straighened his  
back and lifted his head to meat his counterparts gaze.  
"Lord Melkor wants me to bring thee back to thy cell. But thou shall be get  
a more appropriate one tomorrow. Thou art our guest now." With a last bow  
towards the Lord on the throne Maeglin was lead out of the hall and the way back  
to the cell he had spent hours in before he had been sent to Melkor. "I may  
apologize for the roughness of the orcs which brought you here. But for now and  
today I cannot offer you a blanket only my robe. Tomorrow I will send someone  
to lead you to my chambers so that a map of Gondolin can be drawn in  
preperation of the following plannuings." With these words Mairon took off one of  
his robes of black velvet to lay it arund the elf's shoulder.

"Rest well, precious _traitor_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again. This is the last chapter that I've written before I started to post stuff here so updating may take way longer than before and I can't say when I will have to muse and time to continue writting so please be patient with me.  
> I could finally abandon the old English here and get back to something more comfortable to write and read. Finally some story and character progress.   
> Have fun.

_**T**_ he night had been short and as restfull as a night in a dark uncomfortable cell in  
Angband could be. A loud knocking woke Maeglin from what had been a nightmare or just  
the process of burning the vision of torture from the evening before into his mind. The elf  
was still in a slight shock as he woke from the vision and realized where he was. Allowing  
the black velvet robe to slide from his shoulders he got up to open the door and was  
slightly surprised that it wasn't locked and someone outside waited for the permission to  
enter. The door opened with a creek and revealed the view on a tall-grown, woman. Pointy  
ears and pale skin appeared familiar until Maeglin's eye fell on the pointy sharp teeth that  
were not entirely hidden behind dark lips. „Yes?“ Maeglin wasn't sure what he was  
supposed to say or await right now but soon the insecurity, he still tried to hide behind his  
mask of a neutral facial expression and straight back, disappeared when an explanation  
followed.

  
„My name is Thuringwethil. Lord Mairon sent me to lead you to the meeting and take care  
of your needs and well-being in his absence. For breakfast I brought fresh bread, fruits and  
the best of our dried deer meat. Lord Mairon also offers you a bath if you wish for; new  
robes are also already prepared.“

  
It was audible that she was ordered to be polite and treat Maeglin like this because there  
was a thin undertone of disgust or antipathy that she couldn't hide. Still he held out a silver  
plate with said foods. Meaglin wasn't surprised that other creatures of Angband – and so  
also the Vampires – weren't pleased with how they were supposed to treat someone, they  
saw as nothing more than a mere elven prisoner. He would prove them wrong. But for now  
he was still nothing more than this, so he took the plate with a small bow and finally  
answered the question the vampire lady had asked. „Please tell Lord Mairon, that I am  
very pleased by these offers and that I would like to accept them gladly. When should we  
then proceed with them?“ He really was thankful for this offer especially for the bath. The  
dirt of days of the journey to the North made him feel horrible and less valuable, like a gem  
or a piece of jewellery that was worn to long and needed polishing and care to be  
presentable again. Maeglin didn't care that much about formality but what was about to  
happen decided on whether he should survive this or not. They treated him like a guest so  
far so he was to behave like one and make himself presentable. As an answer the elf only  
received a nod and a small bow out of politeness and the information that a bath was to be  
prepared for him in the meantime.

  
The food was better than the waste he had have the evening before and was not  
comparable to the horrible supplies of the journey. It was similar to the food elves had in  
the hidden city. Chewing on the meat, he wondered where these supplies came from. Did  
the higher ranks here get better food and more privileges? What was someone supposed  
to do to get there in the hierarchy? When the elf had finished the view grapes he had got  
there was another knock on his door. The woman was there again when he opened the  
door. They exchanged not many word and Maeglin was told that the bath was ready and  
his new robes were brought there too. Before he left Maeglin took the robe of black velvet,  
folded it neatly and took it with him to return it to it's actual owner later.

  
He was left alone when he passed a broad guarded by armoured orcs. The way to the  
baths were more like hot springs underneath the earth. Pools of stone with steaming  
waters that smelled of sulphur and something different that made it the smell bearable. On  
a small stool new robes in black were prepared just as he had been told. He wouldn't stay  
too long in here to not let anyone wait so to think of an relaxing bath was no thought  
wasted.

  
With his hair made and without a trace of the dirt of the mountains left on pale skin Maeglin  
put on the robes. A simple black tunic with fine silver embroidery at the hem. It's length  
was down to Maeglin's knees. Slits up the sides to his hips were added for mobility. The  
trousers were made from linen. They fit quite well. A few things he collected from his old  
robes like belts and jewellery. Finally presentable.

  
Thuringwethil waited for him to lead him the more important point of the schedule: the  
meeting. It wasn't exactly nervousness that dried Maeglin's throat and mouth but the  
unknowing of what will happen and how things will happen from now on. He's no prisoner.  
Or that's what they said. But he knew things were expected from him. His hands were ice  
cold even under the layers of thick black velvet he carried like the most valuable present of  
Arda. The walk to the Lord's chambers were quite long and went deeper inside the earth,  
seemingly making it harder to breath.

  
They stopped at a high double-wing door. Maeglin's mimics haven't changed since he left  
the bath but his breathing was a bit more shaky. Thuringwethil surely noticed it but ignored  
it. The knock on the door was similar to the one on Maeglin's cell but stronger for the  
greater dimension of the door. They entered and Maeglin held his breath.

  
The room was wide and higher than expected. The walls were covered with shelves up to  
the ceiling. Each filled with scrolls, maps, sketches and notes of every possible kind, neatly  
sorted and organized. It took much of Maeglin's self-control not to drop his jaw that the  
sight. In the middle of the room was a large table already covered in papers and mape,  
partially half finished or only slightly sketched. Beneath those the elf could get a look of  
what looked like armour and jewellery designs and even … language?  
Then his dark eyes rose to see the fair figure with hair of gold standing at the opposite side  
of the table, Mairon smiled friendly at guest.

  
Thuringwethil spoke first after she bowed before the Lieutenant. “I brought him as you  
wished, Lord Mairon. I shall leave now.” And with this she turned around leaving nothing  
but what seemed like a faint shadow at the door through which she just left with flowing  
robes. Now they were alone. As Maeglin realized this he bowed deeply before greeting his  
host. “I'm here as you wished and ordered. I brought your robe. Thank you for lending it to  
me and for offering a bath and new clothing.” He was still bowing when he finished and  
held out the black pool of velvet he had been carrying all his way down here. “You are  
welcome, Maeglin, Son of Eöl. I waited for you.” His voice was just like the first time the elf  
had heard it; tones and notes like liquid honey. Maeglin rose from his bow and looked right  
into Mairon's bright ambers. “I'm really sorry for making you wait.” Mairon took the robe  
from the ravenet's hands and let it drop on one of the chairs that stood around the table.  
“Thank you for bringing me my robe and please don't apologize. The waiting was worth it.  
You look refreshed and more like the elven prince you are.” He was still smiling. It seemed  
like he really meant what he said but Maeglin wasn't trusting him completely yet. “Now to  
the business we are here for. Here on this table I spread every map I have from the region  
we think Gondolin, the hidden city, lays. Now it is your turn, Maeglin, to tell me the exact  
position and setting of it. I'm sure you are a smart prince and learnt a lot about the city you  
lived in.” He sounded happy and excited but with some dark undertone in his voice.

  
Maeglin slowly approached the table and looked more closely. Some maps were pretty  
close to the actual position of the hidden city but others were almost ridiculously wrong.  
These he pushed from the table first and then took a large scaled map and pointed to a  
blank point between the mountains of the Echoriath. “It is here.” Now he was a traitor but  
he didn't feel regret and even the slightest doubt of his decision was buried beneath the  
feeling Mairon's smile of pride hit him. It was the first step to something much larger.  
Mairon didn't have to say more to make Maeglin talk about the encircling mountains and  
the setting of the city.

  
“ So this was basically the rougher outline of the city's outer settings with all the gates and  
the guards.” They had been in the room for hours. Maeglin told what he was asked for and  
told even more after a few more encouraging words or a what seemed like an accidental  
touch on the elf's hand or hair. The elven prince felt like he was growing and getting higher  
but in reality he just started to fall. But it wasn't a question of how deep but more for whom.  
“You are really the key to our victory. Now tell me, Son of Eöl, tell me about your Gondolin.  
The Gondolin how you see it.” Blinking in surprise about such a question, Maeglin bit on  
his lip trying to form the words correctly while he watched the other completing the maps  
they had talked about and sketched. “Do you need another map?” He sounded less  
confident than before when they talked about plain facts. A chuckle escaped the other's  
lips. “No, but I want to know some more about you.” There was something in the way the  
words hit the prince and he knew exactly what it was. Magic. It made the hair in is neck  
stand up and a shiver ran down his spine. And so he began slowly. “Gondolin is... like a  
masterpiece of construction. Strong from within and from the outside. But every  
masterpiece has a weak point. And this is that this construction is like a prison.” Mairon  
smiled and looked up from his drawings “And you escaped and now you are like a crack in  
a gem that is under tension. It takes only a bit more and the beauty crumbles into a mess.”

  
Most of the words still sounded like liquid gold but some words felt like a hammer that hit  
on metal; forming and hard. But this feeling passed within seconds when the other started  
to talk again. “You talk like an artist or a smith talking about their work. Tell me what you  
did in the hidden city.” Meaglin knew that Mairon already knew the answer so he didn't  
understood the purpose of the question but answered anyway. “Yes, I am a smith. I worked  
in the armour forges of Gondolin and searched for new ores in the mountains. My armours  
and weapons were used by the highest of the city and also proved themselves in battles.”  
And this was Maeglin's weak point: his work. Mairon smilied knowingly. “Like the father,  
like the son. I'm sure you learnt your work from him.” The eyes of the prince widened and  
he wondered where Mairon learnt about his father. The question must have been written  
all over his face even though he tried to hide it the best he could. Chuckling, the other  
answered the unspoken question: “So your father didn't tell you. Well he worked once in  
our forges. His work were great and he learnt fast. But then one day he left us  
unfortunately. But now I have his son with me which is even a larger joy.” Maeglin's didn't  
want to believe what he heard. His father had been imprisoned in Angband and even  
learnt here and improved his skills. Now that he thought about it that feeling he got when  
Mairon spoke with his voice's magic reminded him of what his father had tried to teach  
him. No word left his lips and his mind was racing and he couldn't even argue and  
suddenly it was hard to breath again.

  
Maeglin snapped out of his trance when he felt a warm hand on his cheek and he looked  
up into Mairon's eyes. Their faces were so close that Maeglin felt the other's breath on his  
skin and heat rose in his cheeks. “You don't love your father, do you? He gave you the  
name you carry. What was the name your beloved mother gave to you.” Maeglin felt like  
an open book to the other but he felt understood and so he just nodded and answered:  
“Lómion.” Mairon smiled softly and whispered Maeglin's mothers-name into his ear and it  
was like spell that caught the prince with all its power. Hearing this name after all those  
years again even though he had though that it had been lost forever made his heart skip a  
beat. “Lómion. What a beautiful name. Fitting for you. Do you wish for me calling you this?”  
The elven prince felt like losing the ground beneath his feet and he whispered a faint “Yes,  
please, Mylord.” in response and didn't notice the dark smirk on the Maia's lips.  
Mairon withdrew and put some space between them. “Since you worked so hard today  
and you are our guest here you shall be granted this wish.”

  
Finally Lómion felt like he could breath again but the heat on his face he still couldn't fight  
completely. “This means a lot to me. My deepest thank for this.” He bowed again but lifted  
his head to look into the other's eyes.

  
Mairon only smiled again, a warm one this time, before he spoke again. “You are welcome.  
And I am honest with you. I like you. You are interesting and you still have a while here so I  
would like to invite you to my forge the next time. I will send you Thuringwethil again to  
lead you there. I'm interested in your forging skills. Let me show you your new chamber  
you must be tired from working this much. I will accompany you personally.” Mairon  
slipped past Lómion with a small touch of the elf's wrist to make him follow him. Of course  
the ravenet followed straight.

  
The new room was larger and had something that really looked like a bed with sheets and  
even a pillow. Torches lit the chamber together with a small fire place which gave enough  
light to work on the small desk on the wall. The next meal was already set there. Lómion  
blinked a bit surprised about the new room but smiled thankfully and polite. “Thank you  
very much, Mylord. I'm really looking forward to work with you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the next chapter. First of all thank you for your support on here. Now on to the next chapter.  
> I'll use Lómion as Maeglin's name because that's how he sees/feels himself atm. So please to be confused.  
> Have fun reading.

The morning came without rays of sunlight. Time passes in different  
ways beneath the Thangorodrim. Embers of the small fire place were  
faintly glowing in the dark filling the room with the smell of a dying fire.  
The flames of the torches had been ceased the night before the young elf  
had decided to lay down to sleep. But by now dark eyes had opened as  
they tried to draw the connection between the nightmare and the reality  
that they now saw. Lómion's eyes adjusted to the dark fast as he had  
always through his life. He sat up on his new bed, which was more  
comfortable than the bank he had slept before but even though the night  
had been anything but restorative. The visions of torture, pain, flames  
and whips just won't leave his mind. He got up and relit the fire with a  
few logs before dressing. The simple black robe he got was still laying on  
the small chair of the room neatly folded and treated like a precious  
treasure. It was not much but for Lómion it meant that he had a role in  
this story and place he had to be now even though it may be seem a  
fateful even doomed one.

Breakfast was brought together with a note. The words were delicately  
written in Quenya, which the elf didn't expect at all. But it seems this is  
how things may be done for now. The vampire lady seemed to be too  
busy to be a warden for the prisoner so letters and notes have to do for  
now. While eating the bread and dried meat to regain some more  
strength Lómion ate the meal that had been brought. It read:

My dearest Lómion,  
to continue our work together you will assist me in more than just  
he work in study. I await you at my forge after your meal. It lays  
are in a smaller chamber beside the great forges, which you have  
already seen for sure.  
You better not let me wait long. There will be a lot of work to do  
today.  
-Mairon

For some reason the way this note was written and the red letters were  
drawn on the parchment made Lómion felt heat rising in his cheeks. His  
mother's name in a written form by such skilled fingers. After rereading  
the note another 3 times before finishing his meal he put the note  
beneath his pillow. He will keep it.

Forge work was on today's schedule so the elf thought ahead and tied  
his hair up into a loose braid like he usually did when he had worked in  
the forges, no matter if in Nan Elmoth or in the hidden city of Gondolin.

He left the chamber and walked down the corridors trying his best to  
remember the way to the great forges and to find the private forge of  
Mairon. The way was not as much a problem as the ones that came  
across Lómion's way. Their stares made a shiver run down the young  
elf's spine. He felt like a prey presented on a silver plate. He was  
relieved when he found the high door frame with the door only leaned on  
slightly offering a small glimpse of the work done inside. Lómion only  
opened them a bit more to get a first view.

He saw a figure leaned over an anvil a hammer in one hand and the  
other holding a glowing piece of metal the sound of metal hitting metal  
echoed from the high walls, which were filled with various weapons,  
armours and anything that a smith could dream of. As dark eyes fell  
upon the figure again Lómion noticed how every single muscle moved  
beneath the fabric of the smith's tunic and its rolled up sleeves. A leather  
apron protected the fabric from the worst damage. Golden hair  
shimmered in the colours of the flames even though it was tied up in a  
beautiful braid, which was decorated with various jewellery and golden  
chains that would probably chime if the noise of the hammer wasn't  
filling the room. The young elf just could take his eyes from the  
admirable perfection in front of him and almost fell over when the door  
gave in suddenly and made him stumble into the forge.

The figure at the anvil turned around at the sudden movement and the  
invited guest who had finally let himself in. Mairon had an amused smile  
on his lips as Lómion straightened his back again and bowed deeply as  
he greeted his host. “Good morning. I'm sorry for making you wait in  
any way and for not knocking properly.” Maybe the elf misheard it but it  
seemed like the other voiced a small chuckle before putting down  
hammer and the roughly forged object to greet his guest. “Please look  
up, I'm happy to see you hear and you didn't let me wait. You're still on  
time.” While talking in this honey-like voice Mairon approached his guest  
and lifted the elf's head with a faint touch of his chin. “Before we can  
start with work I get you a smith's apron. I will get you a second set of  
robes for the next days but we don't want to ruin the pretty ones you're  
just wearing, do we?”

Lómion straightened his back again and watched Mairon fetching another  
piece of leather. He came close when he put the apron over the elf's  
head so the other could feel the hot breath against his pointy ears as  
words were spoken. “I want to see what you're capable of besides telling  
precious secrets. I heard you were one of the best smiths in Gondolin.  
So show me. Maybe I'm impressed.” The warmth of the breath lingered  
on even when Mairon pulled back again to tie the ribbons of the elf's  
apron. As if the heat wandered from Lómion's ears to his cheeks they  
bloomed in a faint red before he could even voice any answer.  
“I can show you as much and whatever you wish for. Though I have to  
admit weapons and armours are my speciality but I would give my best  
for whatever you ask from me.”

“Just show me whatever you feel most comfortable with. I will reward  
you if you meet my expectations.” The answer was given with a sly but  
promising smile and with a fast beating heart the elf moved to the fire  
place and the workbenches to search for tools and material. Motivated  
by those warm words Lómion tried to get used to this forge without  
messing up the whole order there and he knew every little step was  
watched by those prying eyes. After the first preparations he started to  
form something like art from the metal on the anvil. Mairon strolled  
around his guest like a cat eyeing a small mouse ready to strike any  
moment. The smith felt the piercing glances at his hands and back but  
stayed concentrated to work on the dagger he had in mind. The rough  
form was made with lots of work and sweat but Mairon hadn't said a  
word until he moment came when Lómion wanted to chill the metal. “Not  
yet, Lómion.” The elf looked up but stood still otherwise only his dark  
eyes followed Mairon as he came closer and came to stop right behind  
him. “Let me show you a small trick.” The taller held the elf's hands and  
let a smaller hammer go down on metal again after he reheated it. “To  
get the intersection easier worked out you can work with a smaller  
hammer and smaller intervals” To show and teach the ravenet how he  
meant it. Lómion followed the lead on his hands and tried his best to do  
as he was told but he could almost feel a small smile coming on his  
teacher's lips just as much as on his own. “I will remember it.”

The work went on and Lómion worked well and took in every little  
critique and tried to correct his mistakes. Mairon seemed pleased and  
came closer than probably necessary more than just once. He just knew  
how to influence his little traitor.  
The final result was a razor sharp dagger with and ornamented hilt.  
Mairon took a close look at final design and in the end a smile crossed  
his lips. “Well done, Lómion.”

The words made the young elf's breast swell with pride and the colour  
returned to his usually pale cheeks again. “It had only be possible with  
your help, Mylord. But your approval is more than I could ever think of.”  
“Before I will give you my reward let me fix your hair. You worked so  
hard that your braid is almost non-existent anymore. Please sit.” With his  
words he offered Lómion a stool from the workbench and the latter sat  
down. So Mairon turned to grab a golden comb from the wall and started  
to pull it through the black waves and locks as he began to talk again.

“My Lómion, your way and style of forging reminds me of another elf we  
had here quite a while ago. He may not looked like you in many ways  
but in temper you resemble him very much. You also introduced yourself  
as Son of Eöl, didn't you? Well, then it may occur that after the father  
the son also found his way into my forges.” Even though Lómion had his  
back turned to the other the sly smile was audible though the last words  
and he was shocked and his eyes were wide open just as his lips parted  
as if he wanted to object but now word left his throat.

His father had never told where exactly he had come from or where he  
learnt the technique and style except for the influences of the dwarfs he  
had met. The elf's breaths got faster when realisation hit hard. “This is  
can't be.” Finally words.  
“I didn't mean to shock you, my little traitor.” There was this sly  
undertone again an a shiver ran down Lómion's spine. He didn't dare to  
move though because Mairon's fingers still ran through his hair making  
small braids and braiding them again into other braids. This situation  
was pure torture and Mairon enjoyed it so he spoke again. “Eöl, your  
father was a great smith and learnt fast, just like you. I see that  
technique of his clearly in yours. It's obvious that you learnt from him,  
which is not a bad thing at all. With my help and teaching you can do  
wonderful things. It has been a while since I had a disciple. This is an  
privilege for you.”

Lómion trembled slightly but at the thought of surpassing his father he  
calmed a bit again and his pride was renewed and the fire inside flared  
up again. Mairon finished his braiding with a slide which held most of the  
braids together. “Let me give you your reward before we continue with  
the plans in my study. Please come over to the fireplace.” Mairon got up  
and walked over to the fireplace putting something, which Lómion  
couldn't really recognize, into the flames. But the elf followed and stood  
close to the other waiting for whatever was about to happen. Without a  
warning Mairon took one of Lómion's hands and fetched one of the metal  
pieces from the flames with his bare hands and put it right on the pale  
skin of the elf's wrists bending the metal around it. Lómion screamed in  
pain and cursed in any language he knew left his lips. His dark eyes  
looked up to Mairon is confusion, anger and pain, telling more than any  
words could have done. “It's just to show that you are mine now.  
Nobody will look at you as if you were a prey again. It's only good for  
you.” As if he really meant it Mairon placed a faint kiss on Lómion's  
forehead before he pressed a second bracelet on the other of the elf's  
wrists, earning another but lower scream again. “It's for your best, my  
little traitor.” Mairon held both of the bracelets with both of his hands  
starring into Lómion's dark eyes.

When he had calmed down the elf starred at the somehow beautiful  
bracelets on his arms and the bare hands around them. “How did you do  
that?” His breath was still heavy but his mind had calmed enough to ask  
another question.

Mairon smirked at that question. “You really don't know already. I'm a  
Maia, one of the Ainur, a spirit of fire. Such flames can't harm me.” As if  
he wanted to prove his point he let go of Lómion's wrist and held them  
into the flames. The elf held his still hurting hands to his chest as he  
watched the Maia's abilities in amazement. He was speechless. But  
instead of giving Lómion the chance to understand this phenomenon  
further Mairon pulled his hands back and taking of his leather apron. “I  
will change and then I'll wait you in my study. Another set of robes shall  
be at your chamber by now. Take a bath, eat and then meet me. We still  
have a lot to do.” Suddenly the Maia sounded cold and not caring at all  
like he had before but the disciple didn't dare to object and so he just  
nodded as Mairon left the room without another look back.

After regaining his senses, Lómion walked back to his chambers to follow  
the orders as he had been told but carried confusion with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theory about Eöl being a Dark Elf who was imprisoned in Angband is also from History of Middle-Earth. This time from the Chapter "Maeglin" in History of Middle-Earth Vol. 11 The War of the Jewels 
> 
> The next chapter may also take a while until it's written but I also have something on my mind for it.  
> Until then.


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